Everand Logo

Welcome to Everand!

  • Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

    Only $11.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

    The High School Killer Part Two: Carole Larsen Mysteries, #2
    The High School Killer Part Two: Carole Larsen Mysteries, #2
    The High School Killer Part Two: Carole Larsen Mysteries, #2
    Ebook235 pages3 hours

    The High School Killer Part Two: Carole Larsen Mysteries, #2

    By charles fisher

    ()

    Read preview

    About this ebook

    Carole et al continue to pursue serial killer Jimmy Anders.

    LanguageEnglish
    Publishercharles fisher
    Release dateMay 23, 2018
    ISBN9781386649960
    The High School Killer Part Two: Carole Larsen Mysteries, #2

    Read more from Charles Fisher

    Related to The High School Killer Part Two

    Titles in the series (11)

    View More
    View More

    Related ebooks

    Action & Adventure Fiction For You

    View More
    View More

    Related podcast episodes

    Related articles

    • Article

      Mirror Mirror

      Nov 24, 2020

      Mirror Mirror
      6 min read

    • Article

      Forging a FUTURE

      Sep 28, 2021

      Forging a FUTURE
      12 min read

    • Article

      Counterfeit

      Apr 20, 2021

      Counterfeit
      5 min read

    • Article

      The Birthday Party

      Nov 4, 2021

      The Birthday Party
      9 min read

    • Article

      Everything MUST GO

      Apr 17, 2024

      Everything MUST GO
      6 min read

    • Article

      The Big Black Box

      Jan 31, 2023

      The Big Black Box
      3 min read

    • Article

      The Big Black Box

      Jan 31, 2023

      The Big Black Box
      3 min read

    • Article

      He’s naked IN MY GARDEN!

      Aug 6, 2020

      It was only 7.30 on Saturday morning when Cathy’s phone rang. ‘Mum?’ she asked blearily. ‘You have to come round quick!’ her mum said. ‘There’s a man. He’s naked! In my garden!’ Cathy was out of bed like a shot. As she threw on her clothes and ran o

      5 min read

    • Article

      A healing HEART

      Dec 28, 2023

      A healing HEART
      9 min read

    • Article

      THE Undies Thief

      May 5, 2021

      THE Undies Thief
      2 min read

    • Article

      LOVE Is The Word

      Jan 3, 2023

      LOVE Is The Word
      6 min read

    • Article

      This thing WITH TIM

      Jul 28, 2021

      This thing WITH TIM
      2 min read

    • Article

      My Friend, Mitzi

      Jul 16, 2021

      My Friend, Mitzi
      5 min read

    • Article

      “Apparently Life Goes On …”

      Jan 25, 2023

      “Apparently Life Goes On …”
      7 min read

    • Article

      Counterfeit

      May 9, 2023

      Counterfeit
      6 min read

    • Article

      The Ghost Of A WEDDING

      Jun 23, 2021

      The Ghost Of A WEDDING
      6 min read

    • Article

      Seeing RED

      Mar 31, 2021

      Seeing RED
      6 min read

    • Article

      Playing God

      Apr 10, 2023

      After Jack was abducted by the alien spaceship, and after the round vessel had vanished into the Milky Way, he found himself walking down a tubular corridor with white vibrating walls, escorted by a sinuous blonde who smiled graciously and said her n

      13 min read

    • Article

      The BOGAN WHIP

      Feb 7, 2021

      The BOGAN WHIP
      8 min read

    • Article

      Seeing RED

      Jan 16, 2024

      Seeing RED
      6 min read

    • Article

      Never too LATE

      Oct 26, 2022

      Never too LATE
      6 min read

    • Article

      “Apparently Life Goes On ...”

      Jan 29, 2023

      “Apparently Life Goes On ...”
      7 min read

    • Article

      The Fortune Teller

      Jul 10, 2021

      My head has a liquid feel to it as I stumble down the street. The bottle of red wine in my belly making it seem like my limbs have become balloons, and at any moment they might float away. Next to me, Michael has a stupid whiskey grin stretched acros

      18 min read

    • Article

      Easy Meat

      Aug 13, 2021

      Easy Meat
      4 min read

    • Article

      Gardenia

      Oct 10, 2022

      Mike left the motel in Kirksville around seven thirty Sunday morning and drove for two hours before arriving in Gardenia. The town itself wasn’t much to look at, with a population barely reaching seven thousand, but the community was diverse and bust

      8 min read

    • Article

      Proverbs Of A Faceless Time

      Dec 1, 2023

      Proverbs Of A Faceless Time
      9 min read

    • Article

      The joy of Gina

      Jul 30, 2021

      The joy of Gina
      9 min read

    Related categories

    Reviews for The High School Killer Part Two

    0 ratings

    0 ratings0 reviews

    What did you think?

    Tap to rate

    Review must be at least 10 words

      Book preview

      The High School Killer Part Two - charles fisher

      Table of Contents

      The High School Killer Part Two | Redemption

      The End | Carole will return. She has no choice.

      The High School Killer Part Two

      Redemption

      Larsen  Residence

      Laurel Dr.

      Stratford, Connecticut

      December, 1986

      ––––––––

      What is that? Mary exclaimed when she saw General Grant.  Another dog? 

      Good guess, Ma, Carole smiled.

      Don’t you get smart with me, Mary huffed. You’re not so old I can’t spank you.

      Oooooh! Katie swooned. Spank me, Daddy, she moaned, writhing around in her chair. I like that.

      You shut up too, you little tramp, Mary snapped.

      Who, me? Katie said, looking around. I’m an angel.

      Look at that creature, Mary said, trying not to laugh. He’s no better than the other one you had.

      It’s his grandson or something, Carole sighed. Same family. Can’t you tell?

      General Grant set himself and eyed Mary’s Bunny slippers. He started to growl.

      Bad dog! Mary yelled, stamping her foot. General Grant lay down, his eyes never wavering from the prize. There. See that? He knows who the boss is around here.

      Famous last words, Katie muttered. What’s for dinner, Mare?

      Stuffed cabbage. Polish food. We’re Polish, aren’t we, Carole?

      No, Ma, we’re Swedish. You know; Yah, I’m like  Sven."

      Whatever. I still like stuffed cabbage. Captain Capri likes it too; right, Mike?

      Yes Ma’am, Mike nodded. I do. Especially the way you make it.

      Listen to this horse shit, Carole snickered. Fifteen years and he still has his nose stuck you know where.

      Mike is a very polite man, Mary said. He always was.

      And he still drives that 1958 purple Chevy, Carole giggled.

      That car is going up in value every year, Mike smiled.

      You should have it painted gray to match your hair, Katie giggled.

      That’s a sign of maturity, Mike said, running his hands through his locks.

      It’s a sign of old age, Katie said. Like the crap Impala.

      And where are you cars? Mike smirked.

      Locked up in a heated garage, ready to kick your booty, Katie smiled. Where’s Yo, I’m like Vinny?

      He’s around, Mike shrugged. He still drives a garbage truck.

      He drove several pieces of garbage for you, Katie said. Maybe he’ll get another chance.

      Racing, Mary said as she set the table. General Grant continued to stare at her slippers from under the table. I don’t see what you get from seeing who has the fastest car.

      It’s a matter of principle, Mike said. It’s a sport. People spend tens of thousands of dollars on race cars, just to prove they can do it better than the other guy.

      But you always lost, Mary said. Your driver sucked. Yo, I’m like Vinny, she giggled. Badda bing.

      General Grant crept closer. Every time Mary looked down at him, he closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep.

      Now that’s a good dog, Mary proclaimed.

      You wish, Carole muttered.

      I know about dogs, Mary smirked. This one likes me. I can tell, she said as General Grant crept closer.

      Suddenly General Grant  attacked, ripping Mary’s slipper off her foot. He backed up, the slipper in his mouth, growling. He whipped his head back and forth, then ran down the hall with his prize.

      He’s just playing, Mary declared.

      Sure he is, Carole sighed. Let’s eat. You know what cabbage does to me, don’t you? she grinned. She crossed her eyes and made a farting noise.

      Hey! Katie yelled. It’s December, you know. I can’t sleep with the windows open.

      Then suffer, Carole smirked. Would you like a preview? she said, leaning to one side.

      You do that and I’ll prosecute your for assault with a deadly weapon, Katie giggled. And while we’re on the subject, I’m going to make Kim Chi next week.

      I think I made her in college, Capri mused. Nice Chinese girl.

      The only thing you made in college was your left hand jealous of your right, Carole giggled.

      That’s forbidden in Catholic law, Mike huffed.

      Sure it is, Katie grinned. Tell that to Touch it at Your Own Peril Carole.

      You shut up! Carole yelled. "That was a horror movie you heard. I think I was watching Psycho with Anthony Perkins."

      Enough church talk, Mary said. I understand the Anders boy got parole.

      You understand correctly, Katie smiled as she began sawing off the end of a loaf of bread. Capri’s hands involuntarily went to his lap. What’s wrong, Mikey? Katie grinned. Worried about something?

      Oh no, Mike shrugged. I always feel completely at ease when I see a homicidal maniac with a big knife in her hand.

      You flatter yourself, Katie smiled. Worry when you see me with a two inch jackknife.

      She’s just kidding, Mike laughed. Really.

      That boy is dangerous, Mary said. What are you going to do about him?

      Cut his head off and flush it down the toilet, Katie said nonchalantly as she filled her plate.

      I’m serious, Mary said.

      So am I, Katie smiled. I told that little bastard that if he ever got out of jail, I’d get him and he’d never see it coming. I intend to make good on that promise.

      You’re a District Attorney, Mary said. You can’t kill people.

      Yeah, that’s what Mrs. Garvin told me in fifth grade. They never did find Jerry Barton’s body, she said.

      You have to do it the right way, Mike said. You have to follow the law. You took an oath.

      You are correct. I swore before God Almighty that I would kill that son of a bitch, and I intend to honor that oath. And if you don’t like it, Mikey, you can kiss my ass.

      Right here at the table? Mike grinned.

      No, try it in about six hours after I digest three plates of stuffed cabbage. Who’s got the ketchup?

      Ketchup, Mary sighed. Real Polish people don’t put ketchup on stuffed cabbage.

      Ma, we’re not Polish, Carole sighed.

      Everybody Polka, Mary giggled. Mike is Polish, isn’t he?

      No Ma’am, I’m Italian.

      Nobody’s perfect, Katie muttered.

      Don’t be picking on Mike. I bet that beautiful blonde girl he married is Polish, right, Mike?

      Uh, no, she’s Italian too.

      I thought Italians had dark hair, Mary said suspiciously. Like that actress, Anna Maria Spaghetti."

      Alberghetti, Mike smiled. Not spaghetti.

      I bet she eats a lot of spaghetti, Mary nodded. And how did you get a blonde Italian girl? Does she color her hair?

      She’d have to get in line behind Mikey, Katie giggled.

      The Italians from the North of Italy have blonde hair and blue eyes. Neapolitan people. Like Bob Sorrentino, from our class.

      They must have snuck in from Sweden, Mary said with a wave of her hand. Never mind Bob Sorrento. They make good cheese, she said.

      Give up, Mike, you’re dealing with a senile old woman, Carole sighed.

      I’m not old, Mary huffed. I’m.......good grief, I really am old, she sighed. Oh well, never mind that. You aren’t any Perdue chicken yourself. You and that crazy dog. That’s all you care about, is dogs.

      Dogs never tied other dogs to a pole and set them on fire, Carole smiled. They don’t have dog armies, they don’t have nuclear weapons, and they don’t kill for the pleasure of watching somebody die. Maybe you should think about that. Humans do that, not dogs.

      I don’t do that, Mary said. I’m human.

      We’re still waiting for the tests to come back, Katie mumbled as she filled her plate again and popped open a seventh beer.

      How much of that beer are you going to drink? Mary exclaimed.

      How much do we have? Katie said.

      I don’t understand, Mary said. Why would somebody get pleasure from killing another person?

      Come with me to Anders’ house and watch, Katie grinned. It’s a real rush, she said, looking off into space. It’s the ultimate thrill ride, knowing you’re about to terminate somebody who has no right to live among civilized people. I like doing that, she nodded. I always have.

      What about your job? You’re supposed to lock up criminals, not become one.

      Never mix business with pleasure, Katie smiled. You never did understand me, and you never will. The knife cuts both ways. There is man’s law, and there is God’s law. There is a great divide between the two. As ye shall dishonor me and my Father, so I shall set upon ye the minions of Hell.

      I never heard that passage, Mary said.

      Yeah, I know. There’s a lot of that going around. I spent a year in Israel reading the real scriptures, not that crap they spoon feed you in church. You believe what you want, and live your life accordingly, if that makes you feel good. I got no problem with that. But don’t ever think you can tell me what to believe. I gotta pee, she sighed.

      What’s wrong with her? Mary whispered after Katie had gone.

      Nothing, Carole said. Not one single solitary thing.

      Home of James Anders

      Laurel Drive

      Stratford, Connecticut

      January, 1987

      ––––––––

      Anders opened the door, saw Katie, and tried to close it. She kicked it open and shoved Anders hard in the chest, knocking him over a coffee table onto the floor. She slammed the door behind her.

      Think you’re funny, don’t you, she said as she took off her coat and threw it on the floor. Buying a house one block away from us. Do you know what you just did? You made it easier for me to get to you. Not that it matters, because you are a dead man no matter where you go.

      Get out, Anders hissed as he got to his feet. You can’t come in here. I got parole.

      Read the fine print, stupid, Katie grinned. I wrote your parole release, and it has a few conditions. If you so much as sneeze in the next five years, you get violated back for the remainder of the original sentence we asked for before the plea agreement, which was life.

      You can’t do that, Anders whispered.

      Sure I can, convict. I’m the District Attorney. I can do anything I want, and there isn't shit you can do about it. And how did you get enough money to buy a house?

      Inheritance, Anders smirked. My parents died.

      Oh. I’ll have to look into that, Katie smiled. Did you kill them?

      No, I did not. They were killed in an airplane crash. Too bad you weren’t on board, Anders smirked.

      Too bad I don’t give a flying crap about the law, either, except when I can use it against you, Katie grinned, and delivered a brutal spinning back kick to Anders’ jaw. He reeled backwards and fell into the fireplace, setting his hair on fire. He started screaming, and ran for the bathroom. Katie followed him, grabbed him by the neck, and jammed his head into the toilet. She put her knee against the back of his head as he thrashed and gurgled. Eeeeeuw, she grimaced as she let him up. Somebody didn’t flush. Don’t eat the lumps, she giggled.

      I’ll kill you, Anders wheezed as he crawled out into the hall. I swear I will.

      Thank you, Katie said as she held up a small tape recorder. You just threatened to kill a District Attorney. That gets you violated any time I want to use this. But I don’t really want to send you back to jail, she smiled as she kicked him in the groin. It’s going to be a lot more fun to watch you squirm. And squirm you will, and suffer, and wonder when it’s coming. I’m coming, she grinned. Happy New Year. She picked up her coat and left.

      Larsen  Residence

      Laurel Dr.

      Stratford, Connecticut

      January, 1987

      ––––––––

      Very interesting, Carole said as she listened to the tape. How did you get this?"

      I went to his house to wish him a Happy New Year, and he threatened me. Imagine the nerve of him, Katie huffed.

      He threatened you after you did what? Carole smiled.

      I just..... you know. Kicked him in the jaw, knocked him into the fireplace where his hair caught on fire, shoved his head into the toilet, tuna and all because he’s a pig and didn’t flush, and generally told him he’s a walking corpse looking for a place to fall down.

      Nice, Carole sighed. That’s police brutality.

      No it isn’t; he’s still alive. And I’m not a cop.

      You’re still a Lieutenant. The Chief never took you off the roster."

      Well damn, girl, you owe me about ten years back pay.

      We can’t use this. It was made under duress.

      He wasn’t wearing a dress, Katie said. Although I wouldn’t put it past him.

      What if he reports this and files a complaint against you? You could lose your job.

      Mc Donald’s is hiring, Katie shrugged. Besides, he doesn’t have the balls to file a complaint against me. That’s like Wile E Coyote filing a complaint against the Roadrunner.

      Did you ask him how he can afford to buy a house after fifteen years in stir?

      He said he inherited the money from his parents. Plane crash or something.

      Check it out. And look to see if anybody ever filed a wrongful death suit against him.

      I didn’t think of that, Katie said. He could have civil judgments against him.

      Let’s hope he does. No more house for him. Oh, and check this out, too. The P.D. got a call from Richard Schreyer the other day. He’s complaining about his credit being all messed up and all sorts of problems.

      So?

      So Jimmy boy killed him fifteen years ago.

      Oh, that would present a problem, wouldn’t it? Dead men can’t charge.

      Office of the Chief Medical Examiner

      Alma G. Bridewell, M.D.

      Farmington, Connecticut

      January, 1987

      ––––––––

      Oh, I see you brought Captain Capri with you, Bridewell snickered, her thin lips pursed in a  mocking smile. He hasn’t gotten any better looking over the years.

      Mike took two eggs out of his pocket and set them on the desk. Hatch these for me, Birdwell, he grinned. Try not to break them with your bony ass.

      Why you cretin, Bridewell snapped, eyeing Mike up and down. You think I’ve forgotten about you and the way you used to ridicule me in school?

      I hope not, Mike smiled. I’d hate to go through the whole thing again.

      Do you still have that ridiculous old car you used to drive? I bet you do.

      He has a different one, same year, Carole sighed. You gonna help us out here, Birdwell?

      Bridewell, the rail thin woman snapped. What do you want, anyway? It’s almost lunch time.

      Here, Mike grinned, and tossed a suet ball onto Bridewell’s desk. Enjoy.

      You think you’re funny, don’t you, Bridewell said. Well, you are not. State your business. I have work to do.

      Check this file, Carole said. Your people made a positive ID of the victim. It was Georgette Parker from Fairfield County who was in charge.

      So?

      So the dude called my office the other day, Carole said. He’s not dead.

      He has to be, Bridewell snapped as she went through the file. Everything here is in order. You’ve been played for the fool you are, she smirked.

      Watch it lady, Carole nodded. We’re not on the ground floor, and shit happens.

      The decedent had a wallet containing the identification of a Richard Schreyer. The face, what there was of it, looked similar to his driver’s license photo.

      I’d like to exhume the remains and do a DNA test.

      That would be Deoxyribonucleic Acid, Bridewell smirked. As if someone with your mundane educational background would know what that is.

      How about I Deoxy throw your ass out the window? Carole smiled. I’m sure they can find another insufferable, bound up  thirty eight  year old virgin to take over for you.

      How dare you insult me! Bridewell snapped.

      How about you just do your job, chicken legs? Carole said.

      DNA testing is only three years old. It is very expensive, takes months, and is not reliable.

      Were there any fingerprints taken?

      From what? Bridewell laughed. The decedent had no hands.

      Dental records?

      "No. They took

      Enjoying the preview?
      Page 1 of 1